


Klaine Advent 2019

by lilinas



Series: Expectation Fails [24]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BDSM, Bondage, Chastity Device, Dom Kurt, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Sub Blaine Anderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21643786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilinas/pseuds/lilinas
Summary: Here we go again! December has arrived and I'm doing a Klaine Advent in the Expectation Fails 'verse. I'll try to keep up with tags as we go. As usual, some of these one-shots will be naughty, some nice, and the time frame will jump around as it suits me. This year the Advent folks are partnering with the Glee Potluck Big Bang Drabble December, which is offering an AU prompt for each day of the month. Since I'm writing this in the EF 'verse I can't really plug into the AU part of those prompts, but I'm going to try to include them in my setup along with the one-word prompt from Klaine Advent. Should be fun! Let's hope I finish before October this time! :)
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: Expectation Fails [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/24832
Comments: 130
Kudos: 199





	1. Achievement

**Author's Note:**

> The word of the day is Achievement and the Pot Luck Big Bang prompt is Hallmark Movie AU. So this is my take!

When Kurt heard the key turn in the front door he rushed to hide the evidence of his shame – but he wasn’t fast enough.

“You wouldn’t believe what I had to deal with today,” Blaine said as he breezed into the apartment and started shedding outerwear. “That little shit Timmy decided that . . .”

Blaine froze with his arms still trapped in his coat, his sharp gaze taking in Kurt’s face, his swollen eyes, the tissue half shoved into the couch cushions.

“Are you crying?” He pushed his coat all the way off and let it fall to the floor in his rush to get to Kurt. “What’s wrong?” He flung himself on the couch and reached for Kurt . . . which brought the muted television screen into his line of sight. He froze, his eyes narrowing.

“Kurt, are you watching Moulin Rouge without me? We talked about that.”

Defeated, Kurt shook his head. “It’s not Moulin Rouge.” He fished his tissue out of the couch and dabbed at his eyes.

Blaine was still staring at the screen, where a beautiful submissive knelt in front of a twinkling Christmas tree, offering her cuffed right arm to a Fabio look-alike in a Santa hat, who gently began to unstrap the leather while staring adoringly into her big, shining eyes.

“What the hell is this?”

Kurt sniffed. “Claimed by Christmas,” he said in a small voice.

“Claimed by . . . what?”

“It’s one of those Hallmark movies. You know. The romantic ones they always show at Christmas.”

“You mean the sappy ones that all end the same way?”

Kurt grabbed another tissue from the box he’d partially shoved under the couch. “How can you say that?” He hit pause on the remote, freezing the picture on a Christmas tableau of soulmates embracing in front of the tree. “What in the world is more romantic than that? That’s what a claiming should look like.”

Blaine’s eyes widened.

“Oh . . . oh no Blaine. I didn’t mean that. I just meant, I wish I could have given you something like that.” He nodded toward the TV.

“Why?” Blaine asked.

“Seriously? Honey, you know claiming you was everything for me. But you can’t tell me that when you fantasized about being claimed you pictured it anything like that insanity. In public, where you _worked_ , with you terrified you were about to get fired and me terrified I was about to lose you. Having to take your cuff off in front of Figgins with all his horrible attempts to be supportive? And the secretaries peering through the glass? I’m just saying it’s not what we would have chosen, if we’d had the choice.”

Blaine took the remote from Kurt’s hand then twined their fingers together and smiled. “It’s not what I would have imagined. I could never have imagined anything about the week we met. But like everything else about you and me, it was exactly what I needed.”

“Why?”

“Because after everything we went through, in that crazy insane moment . . . you could have panicked. Or frozen. But you didn’t. You just stepped in and made everything right for me. It was . . . I think it was the moment that I _knew_ I could count on you for anything I needed. I couldn’t imagine how scary it was for you but you rose to the occasion like you’d been doing it all your life.”

“Much as I love being lionized, that’s a bit of an overstatement.”

Blaine laughed. “The point is, I knew right then that you had become my dominant, one hundred percent. That your instincts would always be right for me. And you’ve just built on that achievement ever since.”

“Well that part is definitely true,” Kurt said with a toss of his head.

“And I happen to think we needed the chaos and the crazy so that we’d both really believe that we had this, you know?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Kurt took the remote back from Blaine. “Although I wouldn’t have minded a nice Victorian Christmas tree in the background.” He switched the TV off and turned back to Blaine.

“You didn’t have to stop watching,” Blaine said.

“I thought you said these things were sappy?”

“Well I don’t want to take away your fun.” Blaine took the remote and turned the movie back on. “I’m happy to cuddle with you while you weep over their Christmas claiming.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“Also that guy playing the dominant is super hot.”

“Hey!”

Blaine grinned as he settled in under Kurt’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Master. Please punish me for enjoying that gorgeous hunk in your movie. After it’s over.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” Kurt grumbled. He settled back and hugged Blaine tighter. “For starters, you can hold the tissue box.”

“With pleasure.”


	2. Beer/Meet Cute Featuring Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard! The Glee Pot Luck prompt was a meet cute featuring cookies, and the Advent word for the day was beer. I had no idea what to write! Finally, I decided when in doubt, go with Cooper Anderson. ;) Smut tomorrow I swear! I don't care how much I have to torture the prompt!
> 
> Also I wasn't super clear so this is early in Kurt & Blaine's relationship. Enjoy!

“So I get in the express checkout and there’s this beautiful girl . . .”

From the kitchen Lauren cleared her throat.

“Well she was! I can’t help it if I noticed,” Cooper said. He winked at Kurt. “This girl was gorgeous, and submissive too. Brown cuff, right hand. And she was buying exactly two items.” Cooper held up his fingers to count them off. “A bag of Nutter Butter cookies – you know, the ones shaped like a peanut – and a six pack of Shock Top beer. That’s the one –“

“With the orange on the bottle,” Blaine said impatiently. “We know. Is there a point to this story?”

“I’m sure this is building to something totally relevant,” Lauren said as she settled next to Cooper on the love seat, glass of wine in hand. “Like all of Cooper’s stories.”

“Aww. Thanks, babe.”

Blaine snorted at Cooper’s oblivious breeze past his wife’s sarcasm. Lauren gave him a _what can you do_ shrug, but Kurt poked him hard in the side.

“I’d like to hear the story if you don’t mind,” he said, giving Cooper the awe-struck smile that made something growl in Blaine’s belly whenever it was turned on his brother. On the one hand he was happy Kurt liked his family. But on the other hand . . . well, it was Cooper. Who was still talking.

“So the line is going really slow for some reason, and we’re both looking around, and our eyes meet, and then just to be nice I say, ‘That’s an unusual pair,’ talking about the cookies and beer I mean, and she kind of looks away, I think she may have recognized me from the show and gotten a little star-struck –”

“Because it couldn’t have been the fact that some unknown dominant was creeping on her,” Lauren said.

“Can I tell my story?” Cooper tossed her a glare before turning back to Kurt, his one rapt audience member. “In any case, there we are with her stuff on the belt and my stuff on the belt and then this young guy comes up behind me, and he puts his stuff down and what do you think he has? A bag of Nutter Butters and a six pack of Shock Top! Swear to god! So I’m looking at the cookies in front of me and the cookies behind me and then the girl sees what the guy has and gets all wide-eyed and the guy sees what she has and kind of laughs and then I say ‘Well clearly there was a memo I didn’t get.’”

“The point?” Blaine muttered under his breath.

Cooper ignored him. “So then the guy says to the girl, ‘I wanted something sweet and I figured if peanuts go with beer then why not peanut cookies?’ The girl says it with him – ‘peanut cookies’ – and she laughs and she says, like, ‘Oh my god, you must be my soulmate’ – joking you see – and then they guy says – still joking – ‘Not unless you’ve got Matthew Pritchard on your wrist’ and then the girl,” Cooper held up his hands, finger splayed, in exaggerated surprise, “freezes, goes _white_ , like Casper-white and the guy says in this little voice, ‘You’re not . . . Marcie?’ and the girl grabs for the belt like she can’t even stand up anymore but her hand lands on the cookies and she’s totally crushing them and –”

“And, let me guess, you’re still standing in between them like an idiot,” Lauren said.

“Well there wasn’t any place to go! Those checkout aisles are narrow!”

Blaine buried his face in Kurt’s shoulder.

“Well eventually I did, of course. Get out of the way. And they took off without any of the cookies or beer, which, sure, soulmates, but Shock Top’s pretty good beer if you ask me. Shame to leave it behind. They might have wanted to celebrate!”

“That is so romantic,” Kurt breathed. “I’ve never been there when somebody found their soulmate.”

“Excuse me!” Blaine lifted his head to say.

“Your own soulmate doesn’t count,” Kurt said.

“Exactly!” Cooper pointed a sharp finger at Kurt.

“What even was the point of this story?” Blaine asked Cooper.

Cooper shot Blaine one of those blinding smiles that made fangirls swoon. “Aside from the fact that I have amazing soulmate-bringing-together powers?”

“Yes,” Lauren said drily, “aside from that.”

“I’m just trying to show my baby brother that there are way more embarrassing ways to meet your soulmate than in a classroom full of kids you’re supposed to be teaching.”

“Oh right Blaine,” Lauren said with a sip of her wine and a wink at Blaine. “It could have been so much worse. Cooper could have been there.”


	3. Creed/Christmas Trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! The prompt gods gave me something I could work with so that I could deliver on my promise of some smut! Now this baby gets explicit! ;)

“This one next, I think.” Kurt slipped a wire hanger into a gilded Christmas ball and held it out.

Blaine bent carefully, sideways, and took the twisted wire between his teeth, high enough that he wasn’t mouthing the ornament, but low enough that he’d be able to anchor the hook of it over a branch. His shoulders, pulled tight by the inflexible arm binder, ached but he ignored that, like he’d been ignoring the throb of his caged dick and the twinging pain in his balls every time they tried to swing to or fro.

It was a delicate process to hang the ornament with his mouth, but after almost an hour of painstaking effort, Blaine was finally starting to get the hang of it. He spotted a likely branch, bent his body and twisted his neck, and managed to hook the ornament over his target on the first try. A small but important victory. He straightened, stretched his neck as best he could, and turned back to where Kurt reclined on the sofa, nursing a mug of mulled wine and holding out yet another ornament. He sucked in a determined breath and shuffled back to his soulmate, bending low again.

“I came out to someone at work today,” Kurt said as he picked up a Vogue with the hand that wasn’t holding the ornament.

Blaine straightened, empty-mouthed. “You mean there’s someone at Pieta who doesn’t know you’re gay?”

“Of course not. I came out as an atheist.” Kurt shook the ornament, a silent command for Blaine to carry on. Blaine contorted down to his level and carefully gripped the new bauble between his teeth.

“It was one of the new models Paolo just brought over from Italy. I was wearing that star pin Finn gave me for my birthday – because _I’m_ a star, obviously – but this kid seemed to think it was some kind of baby Jesus star and he went off about . . . well, some god thing. I don’t know. It went on and on. I kept trying to get away but he would not stop.”

Blaine scanned the tree. This new ornament was bigger than the last; it would need a strong branch to hang from. He could see the perfect one, but to get to it he’d have to push in close to the tree. With another deep breath he made his move. Sharp needles poked at his naked belly, his sensitive nipples, even the swollen flesh that pushed through the bars of his cock cage. Behind him, as if completely oblivious to his struggles, Kurt chattered on. And fuck if that wasn’t hot as hell.

“I eventually had to tell him I didn’t believe in god, just to get him to shut up. Of course then he had to go on about _that_.” He fell into a perfect Italian accent. “’I do not understand that you can believe in nothing. _Nothing!_ Are all Americans so . . . _’_ Well, then I suppose English failed him and he went off into Italian so I guess I’ll never know what he wanted to know about all Americans.”

Straining every muscle, including his tongue, Blaine carefully, carefully hung the glass ball on the chosen branch. Then much as he wanted to spring away from the tormenting needles, he stepped back oh-so-slowly, anxious not to jostle any of the decorations he’d already painstakingly hung.

“He was wrong about one thing though,” Kurt said.

“Hmm?” Blaine managed a tiny sound but he wasn’t really listening. He was gathering courage for yet another painful fetch and pricking foray into the tree. So Kurt’s hand, when it gripped his where they hung uselessly from the arm binder, startled him.

“I don’t believe in nothing,” Kurt said hot against Blaine’s ear. “I believe in a lot of things.”

Kurt’s touch, of course, flipped that switch in Blaine that made him forget everything else . . . everything except Kurt’s presence and his own body’s reaction. He held his breath, twisted his fingers to clutch at Kurt’s, and prayed that the hand-holding was just the beginning.

“I believe in you,” Kurt said and pressed closer, slid an arm around Blaine’s chest and tickled over his nipples. “I believe in us. I believe in how your body reacts to my touch.”

Blaine moaned as Kurt’s hand stroked over his ribs and abs, along his groin to cup his aching balls.

“I believe in long afternoons relaxing and watching you struggle to obey me with absolute perfection. And I believe,” his hand moved again, wrapped tight around Blaine’s caged cock, “that I’m going to want to let this out and play with it later. It’s been a while since I’ve had time to torture you.”

Blaine’s knees trembled and he moaned again, louder. It _had_ been a while. Just the word _torture_ coming from Kurt’s lips made his dick spout precome.

“And if you meet my very exacting expectations with the tree, I believe I might even let you come at the end of it.”

Blaine flat-out whined at that. “That’s a religion I can get behind,” he gasped.

Kurt laughed, gave Blaine’s balls a little swat that sent him lunging forward before he remembered that his arms couldn’t bend that way, then left him standing dizzy in front of the tree to go back to his couch, his wine, his Vogue.

“I said _if_ ,” he said. “There are still three boxes to go. Like every good religion, mine makes you pay for your pleasures. Dearly.”


	4. Date/Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be liking my Blaine POV! Thank you all for your fantastic comments! I will answer them eventually, I promise. Today's Advent word was "Date" and the Glee Potluck prompt was stories involving snow. So here you go!

“Tell me what you want to do most. When we get to New York.”

Blaine knew he shouldn’t. It was late, Kurt had school tomorrow, and their Tuesday nights together could be snatched away in a moment if they didn’t live up to the promises they’d made to Burt Hummel. But snug in his bed with his head pillowed on Kurt’s warm chest, it was too easy to pretend, just for a moment, that he was in a position to abandon responsibility and be nothing more than an obedient submissive letting his dominant indulge him. So instead of recommending sleep, he nestled deeper in the hollow of Kurt’s shoulder.

“I used to have this fantasy, when I was in school in New York . . .”

“Go on,” Kurt said quietly.

“There’s this skating rink at Bryant Park. I used to go there sometimes, sit on a bench and drink cocoa and watch the couples skating. And I’d imagine being one of those couples. Skating around with the man I loved. I’d wonder if he’d be really good, or if he’d fall all over the place and we’d laugh until we couldn’t breathe.”

“I assure you I’m an excellent skater,” Kurt said.

Blaine smiled against his skin. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“And I have several absolutely perfect skating ensembles waiting to be shown off.”

“Of course you do.”

“So we skate. Then what?”

Blaine’s eyes drifted closed. He could see it in his mind, a familiar fantasy that now had a face, a person in the space next to him. They’d get there, he knew. This time was hard but soon, soon enough, they’d have all the time in the world. He just had to keep reminding himself.

“Blaine? Did you fall asleep?”

“Then it would start to snow, and we’d walk home, or to the train, sipping cocoa and holding hands with the snow coming down all around us.”

“I can see I’m going to have to refresh the waterproofing on my Ferragamo boots.”

“I want do that so much it kind of hurts,” Blaine admitted. “We will, right?”

Kurt’s arm tightened around him. “We will.”

“Promise?” Blaine asked, letting himself, just for a moment longer, be as needy as he felt.

Instead of responding, Kurt twisted underneath him, reaching out, and then the dark bedroom was flooded with light that filtered through Blaine’s closed eyelids.

“What are you doing?” Blaine opened his eyes and squinted against the painful brightness of Kurt’s phone screen.

“I’m checking the Farmer’s Alamanac.”

“The . . . what?”

Kurt poked at his phone, zoomed in on something, then nodded and shut it off again. “According to the Farmer’s Almanac, the first big winter storm on the eastern seaboard next winter is supposed to hit the eighteenth of November.”

“I don’t think the Farmer’s Almanac works that way.”

“I’m your dom, so it does if I say it does.” Kurt wrapped both arms around Blaine and hugged him tight. “So that’s the day. November eighteenth in Bryant Park for snow, cocoa, skating, and anything else your heart desires. How does that sound?”

The sensible side of Blaine told him that it was silly, there wasn’t any way to know if it would snow, if it would be cold enough to skate, even if the eighteenth was a weekend or a school day, or if one or both of them would have a job to go to. But his heart, full of love, didn’t want to hear any of those arguments. He smiled and lifted his mouth for one last goodnight kiss.

“It’s a date.”


	5. Emergency/Presents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our word was "Emergency" and our trope was presents. I was completely stumped, until the always-amazing Sparrow30 stepped up with an idea that I then ran with. Thank goodness for friends and the fundamentally collaborative nature of fanfic!

“Hey Kurt, what’s –”

“Stop talking and listen!” Kurt hissed into the phone.

“Uh, okay –”

“I said stop talking! I need you at the studio right now. It’s an emergency!”

“Oh god, are you hurt?”

“Why would I be hurt?” Kurt whispered fiercely.

“You said it was –”

“Just get over here!”

“You’re scaring me, Kurt. Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

With a frustrated sigh Kurt collapsed into his desk chair. “Dear god. Fine. I need you to come help me steal a Christmas present.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Are you still there?” Kurt asked.

“I’m here. I was waiting for you to explain that.”

Kurt tapped his foot impatiently. He knew Blaine couldn’t see it but it helped him anyhow. “We’re wasting valuable time, Blaine!”

Blaine didn’t answer.

“It’s very simple, actually. I was in the middle of some virtuoso draping, thus completely distracted when Paolo’s secretary came in and said she was leaving for the day. I grabbed his Christmas present and asked her to leave it on his desk, which she did, then she locked his office. And left. For the week.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because I only just realized that instead of _his_ present I gave her _your_ present, which I picked up at lunch today, and which was in a very similar gift bag. So now your present is locked in his office and I need you to come over here and help me pick the lock and switch them.”

“Can’t you just tell him when he comes back next week and make the swap then?”

Kurt sighed. “No I can’t. What if he comes back early? And goes in his office? And sees it? And _opens_ it?!”

“So what?”

“ _So what?!_ ” Kurt screeched.

There was another long pause. Kurt nibbled at his thumbnail while he waited for Blaine to speak.

“So I’m guessing it’s a kinky present,” Blaine said at last.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“How kinky?”

“Kinky like, there was plaster casting involved,” Kurt said in a small voice.

“Of . . . ?”

“Parts. Of my body.”

“Oh my god, Kurt.”

“Are you horrified or turned on?”

“Both!” Blaine exclaimed. “Fuck, Kurt! What are we going to do?”

“You are going to come over here and help me fix this!” Kurt commanded. “Everyone’s gone for the night. We can take as long as we need.”

“Do you even know how to pick a lock?”

“No,” Kurt admitted. “But I’m sure we can find a YouTube video.”

“This is crazy Kurt! It won’t work. We’ll get caught. I can’t . . .”

“I’ll use it on you.”

“. . . what?”

“As soon as we get it back,” Kurt said. “I’ll let you open it and we’ll lock ourselves in my office and I’ll throw you over my desk and strip you naked and use it on you. You can have one of me in one end and one . . .”

Kurt’s phone beeped. He held it out. _Call ended_ flashed on the screen.

He put his feet up on his desk, fired up YouTube, and waited for Blaine.


	6. Fist/Sick Fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pepperroxd gets credit for inspiring this little bit . . . I guess I stretched the definition of sick fic a bit but hey, it's my 'verse and I do what I want! ;)

“Make a fist for me dear.”

Somewhere behind Blaine, Kurt snorted. “That’s how we got here in the first place,” he said.

The nurse’s eyes snapped from Blaine’s arm to Kurt’s face. Blaine tried to smile an apology, but winced when the movement pulled at the stitches in his lip.

“It’s not what he –” Blaine started to explain, but the nurse, with military efficiency, had already slid the IV needle into his arm, taped it down and turned toward the door.

“The bag should take about twenty minutes then you can go home,” she said without turning around. “I’ll be back.” She made it sound like a warning.

“Kurt!” Blaine exclaimed as soon as she was gone.

“Hmmm?”

Blaine craned his neck from his position on the bed. Kurt had wandered to a poster on the wall and was studying the digestive system like he was going to be tested on it.

“ _That’s how we got here in the first place?”_ Blaine said.

Kurt glanced back at him. “Well it is. In fact, I’m pretty sure those were Sam’s exact last words before . . .” he waved a hand in Blaine’s direction, indicating his general state of banged-up grubbiness. “Minus the _dear_ , of course. Sam’s not allowed to call you that.”

“Yeah but she doesn’t know that. She thinks you meant . . .” Blaine trailed off, not wanting to say it.

“Meant what?”

“You know . . . that this was a . . . _fisting_ accident.”

That finally pulled Kurt’s attention from the digestive system. He turned and stared at Blaine. “Why the fuck would she think that?”

“Because . . . two gay men, I’m banged up, and you say it has to do with a fist . . . what’s she supposed to think?”

“That you got socked in the mouth!”

Blaine stared at him. “But . . . I didn’t get socked in the mouth.”

“Well you certainly didn’t get fisted!”

“But Kurt . . .”

Whatever emotion was in his voice – and Blaine himself wasn’t sure what it was – Kurt heard it. He came and sat on the end of the bed, taking Blaine’s non-IV hand in his.

“Honey. This must be the shock talking. She does not think I somehow split your lip while fisting you. And she also has no idea you tripped on a rock and face-planted while trying to learn a left hook from Sam. She thinks that you were involved in some kind of fisticuffs –”

“Fisticuffs?”

“– _fisticuffs_ , which, if she _was_ judging you, was because she figured you are much too old to get caught up in something like that." Kurt's eyebrows bunched severely. "And she was not wrong.”

“Hey!”

Kurt let his expression soften. “But I guarantee you there’s no way her brain went to _fisting accident_. You at least get to hold on to that particular shred of dignity.” He reached out and traced Blaine’s bottom lip with a gentle finger, stopping short of the stitched split. “Be grateful for that. Once Sam starts telling everyone about your swan dive into the dirt, you’re not going to have many shreds left.”


	7. Ground/Traditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this one our word is "ground" and the trope is traditions. I'm sure they meant holiday traditions. But I'm spinning this my way again!

Blaine lay on the bed, eyes closed, breathing deep and relaxed, not asleep, but not present either. Kurt sat with him, not touching, not yet.

After so many years, this part had become a routine. No, Kurt thought, watching Blaine’s peaceful face, features that had only moments ago been twisted with effort and intensity. Routine made it sound rote and boring. But this space in which they came back to each other was never routine. Maybe tradition was a better word. Their own tradition of quiet aftercare. Kurt liked that better.

“I’m going to touch you now, baby,” Kurt said, and he placed his hand flat in the middle of Blaine’s chest, providing the gentlest of pressure to guide Blaine back into his body.

Blaine’s breath lifted and lowered Kurt’s hand and Kurt’s own breath began to match it.

It went both ways, Kurt thought. Their aftercare soothed and grounded Kurt as much as it did Blaine. They both needed the space to understand what had been done, how it had affected and even changed them. So Kurt always made plenty of time for this part. Simple contact, breath, watching. He knew from long experience that he would recognize Blaine’s signal when it came, no matter how long it took.

In the beginning it had scared him, sometimes, if Blaine took too long to come back. More than once he’d pushed too hard, anxious to know that Blaine was okay, and, if he was being honest, to reassure himself that he’d done well. Eventually, though, he’d learned to ride the silence along with Blaine and let it lead him, too, back down to Earth.

Kurt rolled his shoulders as he waited, loosening muscles tight from effort. He looked forward to lying down, once Blaine showed him he was ready for that kind of contact. For now he stretched what he could without losing that one point of contact.

Finally, Blaine’s lips pressed together in the smallest tightening. That was the signal. Kurt reached for the water bottle on the nightstand.

“Drink some water, sweetie.” He let the lightest note of command color his words and Blaine turned his head, blindly seeking the straw. His lips closed around it just tight enough to make the seal. Sip and swallow. Sip and swallow.

Kurt loved this part. It was like watching a flower bloom, the way each mouthful of water brought Blaine a little closer to him. He’d learned to watch and enjoy as Blaine’s body seemed to fill out breath by breath. Kurt knew there wasn’t really any physical thing that had left and was now returning, but he still imagined he could see Blaine’s essence creeping back along his limbs. Fingers twitched, toes curled, and Kurt’s hand moved in little circling caresses over Blaine’s heart.

There was always a moment, and Kurt never got tired of seeing it, when Blaine, back in his body but eyes still closed, smiled. Kurt wasn’t sure if Blaine even knew he did it, and in all their years together he’d never asked. No matter what they’d done, no matter if there were tears drying on Blaine’s cheeks, if his back burned from a whip, if he’d come floods or if his cock still pulsed hard and unsatisfied, the smile always came. It was, Kurt thought, the most eloquent validation of everything they did and were that he could imagine.

Kurt put the water away and took Blaine’s hand. As he massaged Blaine’s palm with his thumb, Blaine’s eyes fluttered open and his soft, tired, sated gaze met Kurt’s.

“Welcome back,” Blaine said.

“Isn’t that my line?” Kurt asked.

“You get care too, you know.”

Kurt smiled. “Of course I do. I expect aggressive snuggles as soon as you’re ready.”

Blaine tried to turn onto his side, but winced as effort brought pain. “I think maybe passive snuggles are all I can manage tonight,” he confessed.

Kurt slid under the duvet and gently, gently maneuvered Blaine into his embrace. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got enough aggressive for both of us.”

Blaine hummed as he settled his head on Kurt’s chest. His weight was, for Kurt, the final and ultimate moment of their ritual, his signal that everything was right.

“Love you,” Blaine murmured.

Kurt stroked his hair. “I love you too.”


	8. Hiccup/Secret Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one! I always like to include Kurt & Blaine's New York friends somewhere in the Advent and this seemed to be the place. So I just plunked them all down in a room and let them play. I love these guys and never get tired of writing them.

The party ended the way their parties always did, with the five couples curled up on various surfaces after everyone else had gone. Blaine sat on the floor, leaning back against Kurt’s legs. Bruce lay curled up next to him, head in his lap. Kurt was always amazed by how Bruce could contort his long body into the exact shape a dog would have made. His pup skills were impressive. Even in public party mode, without a mask or tail, Bruce, when he chose to, always managed to look more dog than human.

Sean and Nathan were entwined on the couch, which was unusual for them. Alcohol and frivolity usually made Nathan even more of a flirt, but tonight, if the way he was devouring Sean’s face was anything to go by, he only had lips for his dom.

Caleb was circulating around the room cleaning up, under his soulmate Jack’s critical eye. Normally Kurt would never let a guest perform such a service, but he knew by now that Caleb got off on being made to do that kind of thing when out and about, and there weren’t a lot of places where he and Jack could act out that fantasy. After years of friendship they didn’t even have to ask. Caleb shed his clothes as soon as the last not-them guest left, and set to work.

Jeff was plunked on the love seat with Kurt, legs across his lap. Kurt usually wouldn’t tolerate that much intimacy from anyone but Blaine, but he and Jeff had done some serious bonding over the whole younger-doms-to-older-subs thing. He was pretty sure Jeff was becoming his best friend, not including Blaine of course. Jeff’s older sub, Steve, was browsing the last of the buffet, a bright Santa hat askew on his head.

Blaine’s head was askew too, rocking back and forth against Kurt’s legs in time with his fingers scratching behind Bruce’s ear. Blaine had been drinking – too much, if Kurt was being honest, but he didn’t really mind. It happened so rarely, and there were so few occasions when Blaine could let go, forget responsibility and be fully himself in front of other people. It was only with this found family of theirs, and Kurt loved to see him in the state of goofy relaxation he usually only allowed himself when they were alone.

Kurt smiled at the room full of friends. It was the kind of circle that he’d never even dared dream about back in Lima, battling Karofsky’s band of homophobes day in and day out. He loved every one of these men and was grateful to them for so many things.

“Presents!” Jeff said, wriggling across Kurt’s lap and pulling him out of his happy thoughts. “We haven’t done the Secret Santa yet. Bruce is going to fall asleep soon and I do not want another repeat of last year.”

From the floor Bruce whined. Blaine shushed him and scratched harder.

“Champagne first!” Bruce’s soulmate Lars appeared from the kitchen with a foil-topped bottle and a tray of glasses.

“Do we really need more to drink?” Kurt asked.

“I do!” Blaine volunteered with a raised hand.

“Honey –”

Kurt was interrupted by a pop so loud that even Sean and Nathan came up for air. Everyone cheered as the champagne cork flew across the room. Kurt cringed as bubbles overflowed the bottle, but Caleb was already there, towel in hand, making short work of the mess, and everyone was laughing, even Bruce.

“Do you really think you need more alcohol?” Kurt leaned over Jeff’s legs to ask Blaine.

Blaine craned his neck to look up at Kurt, opened his mouth to speak, and, hiccupped. Then dissolved into giggles.

“Okay I think you’ve had enough,” Kurt said.

Blaine twisted around, dislodging Bruce, who growled at him and crawled away to find someone else to cuddle up to.

“No – _hic_ – see –” Blaine said, or tried to say, “I have – _hic_ – the _hiccups_!”

“Which is why you should stop drinking.”

“But everybody knows – _hic_ –”

“Everybody knows,” Lars drawled, presenting Blaine with a flute of Champagne, “that you have to drink to get rid of hiccups.”

Kurt frowned at Lars. “Water. You’re supposed to drink water.”

“Water?!” Lars gasped in horror. “When there’s Veuve Clicquot? Heaven forfend!”

“I want presents!” Jeff insisted. He climbed off Kurt’s lap and beelined for the Christmas tree. Blaine, glass in hand, eagerly replaced him. He grinned at Kurt, then hiccupped loudly.

Lars distributed Champagne while Jeff distributed presents.

“I just hope I didn’t get Bruce this year,” Nathan said as he shook his gaily-wrapped box.

Bruce snuffed from the floor.

“I love you, man, but a bone is not a present for a person. At least, not that kind of a bone.”

“Maybe he was being ironic,” Lars said, “did you ever think of that? Or maybe he was just implying that you’re an oversexed cock slut.”

Bruce arfed, leaving no doubt which answer was correct.

“I’m Kurt’s Secret – _hic_ – Santa!” Blaine stage-whispered, leaning forward like that would keep Kurt from hearing.

“Blaine! It’s supposed to be a secret!” Sean said.

Nathan paused his present-shaking. “Wait, I thought no one was supposed to get their partner.”

Blaine shook his head so hard his curls bounced. “You’re not,” he whispered. “I – _hic_ – cheated.”

“Well I like that!” Nathan grumbled. “Sean might have given me the right kind of bone.”

“I had to!” Blaine grinned at Kurt when Lars presented him with a festive package. “I had the – _hic_ – best present for you. I didn’t want to – _hic_ – wait until Christmas day. So I swapped it in. Open it!”

“Wait – did you swap it before or after you started drinking tonight?”

Blaine’s face scrunched up in concentration. “Not sure.”

Around them their friends laughed.

“Sweetie . . .”

Blaine hiccupped.

“Is this the kind of present I should be opening in front of everyone?”

Blaine twisted his face again. Which was all the answer Kurt needed.

“Open it! Open it!” Nathan started the chant but the others quickly picked it up.

“Dream on!” Kurt said over the din. “Come on, Nathan. I want to see if Bruce got you a chew toy to go with that bone.”

Everyone laughed at that. Kurt let his present slip to the floor out of Blaine’s sight, but Blaine had already moved on. He leaned back against Kurt, who wrapped his arms around his lover and hugged him tight. Lars plopped down on a cushion on the floor; Bruce crawled to him and rolled over, presenting his belly for rubbing. Sean cuddled Nathan as he tore at the wrapping on his gift. Jack caught Caleb’s hand and pulled him into their group, where he knelt at his master’s feet and waited for his present. Jeff joined Steve by the buffet, where the sub offered his dom a tiny plum tart.

“I love our friends,” Blaine said, suddenly lucid, in Kurt’s ear. “I love our life.”

Then his head fell on Kurt’s shoulder and he began to gently snore.

Jeff appeared by the chair and smiled down at Kurt and Blaine. “At least he stopped hiccuping.”


	9. Interrupt/Carolling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time I gave my own kinky twist to the prompt!

“On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me. Ten drummers drumming . . . _no, please_!”

As Kurt’s hand disappeared, Blaine opened his eyes and stared pleadingly up at his master.

Kurt smiled back at him. “You got so close that time sweetie! All the way to ten!”

Blaine twisted on the bed, unconsciously thrusting his cock into the air, but Kurt made no move to touch it again.

“Please, Kurt. Please. I was so close. I know it’s lords a-leaping. I was just . . . distracted.”

“Well obviously.” Kurt patted Blaine’s thigh, so close, yet so far from where Blaine longed to be patted. “You know the rules. If you get the words wrong – for any reason – I stop stroking.”

Blaine groaned and collapsed back onto his pillow. “I was so close,” he whined, not talking about the carol.

“Finish up and then we’ll try again,” Kurt said brightly, like Blaine wasn’t lying there about to explode from frustrated arousal.

Blaine gritted his teeth. “Ten lords a-leaping,” he sang through them, “nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five gold rings. Four excruciating edgings, three ruined orgasms, two bright blue balls and an evil and sadistic dom.”

“Very funny,” Kurt said. “Back to the beginning. With the traditional lyrics please.”

Blaine turned his head and tried pleading again. “It’s been so long, Kurt.”

“Yes it has.”

“I need to come.”

“Then sing the song.”

“Kurt . . .”

Kurt gave Blaine’s thigh a slap. “Stop whining. These are the rules.”

“You made the rules!”

“Which is why it’s so lovely to be me. Let’s go. I don’t know about you, but this is really putting me in the holiday spirit!”

Blaine closed his eyes and groaned. He knew there was no way to win Kurt’s game. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, with Kurt’s slick hand teasing and stroking and drawing Blaine’s body closer and closer to the edge of release, after so many weeks of denial, there was no scenario in which he’d be able to sing the carol from beginning to end with no mistakes. His muscles ached from straining towards completion. His testicles felt like they’d been replaced with hot coals. And his cock streamed desperately, so hungry for the long-awaited orgasm. He was never going to make it. Kurt was asking the impossible.

He opened his eyes again. “Honey,” he said in the quietest, most reasonable tone he could muster.

“Yes, sweetie?” Kurt said innocently, like he wasn’t torturing his soulmate beyond endurance.

“I can’t. I honestly can’t. I’m exhausted.”

Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand and squeezed it. “Oh, sweetheart. Why didn’t you say so? We can stop now. I’ll go get that cocoa I promised you and we can snuggle and go to sleep.”

Once again Blaine fell back on his pillow. This time a little sob accompanied his descent.

“You didn’t think . . .? I was very clear Blaine. If we stop you don’t get to come. But since it’s Christmas I’ll ice you down if you want, so you don’t have to go to sleep hard.”

Blaine lay, silent. Kurt sat and waited. When Blaine didn’t speak Kurt’s hand reached out slowly and his fingers closed gently around Blaine’s aching cock. And god it felt good. It felt so fucking good, even though Blaine knew that inevitably he’d screw up and his push to release would be interrupted yet again. Actually – and he was sub enough to admit it – it probably felt even better _because_ he knew that.

“Or,” Kurt said, letting his fingers swirl around the hot iron of Blaine’s shaft, “we can try again. Think how close you’ll get with me stroking you through all those verses.”

Tears filled Blaine’s eyes. Tears of frustration, exhaustion, surrender, gratitude. For what felt like the hundredth time he opened his mouth.

“On the first day of Christmas . . .”


	10. Joy/Mall Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's word was "Joy" and the potluck prompt was Santa at the mall. I knew what I wanted to do right away, for once!

“Pictures with Santa!”

Kurt raised an eyebrow at his nieces. “Haven’t you outgrown pictures with Santa?” he asked.

But Willa and Annie were already trotting toward the holiday village set up in the middle of the Lima mall. Kurt let Blaine pull him along after them. Both girls had the long legs that you’d expect from Finn Hudson’s children – at sixteen Willa was already taller than Kurt and Annie wasn’t far behind – and Kurt was more winded than he was willing to admit once they caught up. He was so busy trying to catch his breath while hiding the fact that he needed to, that he didn’t realize until it was too late that he was being dragged right up to Santa’s throne.

“What are you doing?” he finally protested.

“You guys have to be in the picture too!” Willa insisted.

“No we do not.”

“Please!” Annie wheedled. She’d already plopped on one of Santa’s knees and was waiting for her sister to take the other.

“I am much too old to take pictures with Santa,” Kurt said firmly.

“Come on, Kurt,” Blaine said. “I’m doing it I’m even older than you.”

“I will leave you follow that thought to its logical conclusion,” Kurt sniffed.

But then Willa pushed out her bottom lip and gave him pleading eyes and damn it, Kurt never could resist either of his nieces when they really laid it on like that. He pretended annoyance, for appearances sake, but he took his place next to Blaine and even slid an arm around his waist – Ohio prudes be damned – before the photographer snapped. Or whatever those newfangled virtual cameras did.

While they waited for the photos to print, Kurt overheard Mrs. Claus whisper to Willa, “Your dads are adorable.”

Willa giggled. “They are, aren’t they?”

Later, as they all headed to the food court, Kurt took Willa’s arm. “You want to tell me why you let that woman think we’re your dads?”

Willa shrugged. “It was too much trouble to explain. Besides, you guys are almost our dads. I mean, we’re like your almost kids, right?”

Annie, walking ahead with Blaine, turned and grinned. “Besides, it’s totally current to have two dads.”

“Current?” Blaine asked. “Is that supposed to mean good?”

“What would current mean besides good?” Annie asked.

“Well in my day current just meant . . . current.”

“It’s good, Uncle Blaine,” Annie said with the special kind of patronizing tone only a fourteen-year-old could muster.

“I guess it’s official,” Blaine said to Kurt. “Time and the language have passed us by.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kurt said.

As they came in sight of the food court Willa gasped and stopped short, pulling Kurt to a standstill with her.

“What’s wrong?” Kurt asked.

Annie gasped too, and spun around to look at her sister. “He’s there!”

“Who’s there?” Kurt asked again.

“Biiiiiily Franklin,” Annie sang. “He’s dreamy. He works at Mrs. Fields. Willa’s in looooove with him.”

“Shut up!” Willa hissed.

But the flush on her cheeks told Kurt that Annie wasn’t wrong.

Blaine reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a twenty. “I could use a cookie right about now. How about you girls go get some while Uncle Kurt and I rest?”

“I don’t need to –” Kurt began, but Willa’s expression changed on a dime. She snatched the twenty.

“Thanks Uncle Blaine!” She took off with Annie at her heels.

“Bring me a chocolate chocolate chip!” Kurt yelled after them.

“Posdef!”

“Pos . . . what?”

Blaine smiled. “Face it, Kurt. It’s passed you by too.”

They found a table not too far from the cookie counter manned by the dreamy Mr. Franklin.

“I can’t believe Willa’s already sixteen.” Blaine said as he sat.

“She’s almost as old as I was when we met.”

“God. Let’s not go there!”

“She’ll be getting her mark any day now,” Kurt said.

“She’s late. Like you.” Blaine took Kurt’s hand, right there in front of everyone, and Kurt didn’t protest because apparently these days being gay in Ohio was _current_.

“Funny how that lady thought we were their dads,” Blaine said.

“I’ll admit to being shocked anyone in Ohio would go there, even these days.”

“Are you sorry we decided not to have kids?” Blaine asked.

Kurt turned and scanned Blaine’s face. His expression was relaxed. Kurt couldn’t sense any hidden emotions. “No,” he said. “Are you?”

Blaine shook his head. “I felt bad, a little, before Cooper had Devin, because I know my mom wanted a grandchild. But once he came along, I knew we made the right choice.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand. “I love those girls like they were our own. But I also love our life. If we’d had kids, everything would have been different. And some of the differences would have been good but I never felt like what we’d have gained would have outweighed what we’d have given up.” He set his copy of the Santa picture on the table and they both looked at it. A girl on each of Santa’s knees, Blaine grinning next to the big guy, Kurt holding Blaine close, smiling despite himself.

“I kind of feel like we have it all,” he said softly to Blaine.

At the Mrs. Fields counter Willa was trying to flirt with Billy the dream. Billy was clearly flirting back. “And I think Willa’s made a conquest.”

Blaine smiled at their niece, then at Kurt. “Joy to the world.”


	11. Kinship/Charity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, the day after I wrote about family etc., the prompt is "Kinship." Sigh. But I soldier on. ;) Kinship is paired with "Charity" from the Glee Potluck Big Bang.

“You look incredible.”

Kurt’s face appeared behind Blaine’s in the mirror and his arm circled Blaine’s waist, pulling him back into a warm embrace.

“You look pretty amazing yourself,” Blaine said, straightening his bow tie then turning in Kurt’s embrace. “In fact, we could just skip the whole thing, stay here,” he pressed his pelvis forward teasingly, “do . . . things.”

“Blaine Devon Anderson. Are you suggesting we skip Rachel’s charity gala just to have sex?”

“I can’t help it!” Blaine protested. He stroked Kurt’s own bow tie suggestively. “You in formal wear is my kryptonite.”

“Her charity raising money for poor submissive musical prodigies?”

“We don’t have to go to give money you know.”

“I am appalled,” Kurt said severely. “I’d think you of all people would feel some kinship with those poor submissive musicians.”

“I feel. I give. I stay home and get fucked. Everyone wins.” Blaine gave Kurt his pleading eyes – the ones that usually got him whatever he asked for as long as what he was asking for wasn’t an orgasm.

Kurt pulled away, shaking his head. “I’m already dressed. I didn’t pour myself into this tux to _not_ go hobnob with the glittering scions of New York society.”

“We could role play,” Blaine wheedled. “You could be James Bond and I could be the villain’s flunky who you have to interrogate . . .” he wiggled his eyebrows and stalked toward Kurt. “I’ll never talk,” he said in a broad approximation of a Russian accent. “Do your worst. You can torture me until I scream. I won’t give away plans. No matter what you do to me.”

He could see Kurt wavering so he threw in a little hip wiggle. “Beat me. Burn me. Electrocute my nipples –”

Kurt burst in to laughter. “Oh my god. Enough! That accent is the real torture. Get your coat Boris. We’re going.”

“Kurt!” Blaine protested.

“We’re going!” Kurt said again. “I’ll be the one getting tortured if we don’t show up. Rachel will do all of that, including the nipple thing. Which would be much less fun for me than it is for you.”

Blaine let the way to the living room, pouting as he pulled both their coats from the closet. “I can’t believe you’d rather go to this gala than stay here and fuck me.”

“I thought I was supposed to torture you?”

“That too! I figured eventually they’d both happen.” Blaine opened the front door but Kurt caught his arm and swung him around into another embrace.

“How about this. We make an appearance at the gala, write a big check, I get to keep my balls, then we’ll come home and I’ll make you wish Rachel had taken yours.”

Blaine grinned. “Promise?”

“I swear on our violet wand.”

“You say the sweetest things.”


	12. Lecture/Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's lecture and memories. Where else am I going to go? :)

“What are you watching?” Blaine asked, plopping down on the sofa next to Kurt, who hurriedly wiped at his eyes. “And why is it making you cry?”

“Victoria,” Kurt answered.

“The movie with Judi Dench?”

Kurt paused the TV and shook his head. “The PBS show. You know, with that girl who was on Doctor Who.”

Blaine looked from Kurt to the TV screen and back again. “And you’re crying because . . .?”

Kurt sniffed. “It just made me nostalgic.”

Blaine looked back at the screen. “For the Victorian era?” he asked, confused.

“No, obviously not,” Kurt huffed. “For when we first met.”

“What do the Victorians have to do with when we first met?”

Kurt gaped at him. “You don’t remember?!”

“It was twenty-two years ago, Kurt. I think I remember the important parts. And I’m sure none of them involved corsets or hoop skirts.”

Kurt let his head fall back on the back of the couch, the picture of dejection. “I cannot believe you don’t remember. Our second day together. History class.”

“Oh!” Blaine cried, and Kurt sat up expectantly but Blaine’s brow furrowed. “I remember you giving a blow job to a pencil.”

“While you were lecturing about Queen Victoria! You really don’t remember?”

“Did you miss the part where you were blowing a pencil in a classroom full of kids just to tease me? How could I possibly remember anything else?”

Kurt fell back again. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Blaine took his hand. “Kurt, I remember us. I remember how it felt to be in that room with you. I remember all the excitement and fear and hope. Why does it matter that I can’t remember the lecture?”

“Because,” Kurt said, sitting up and turning to face Blaine, “you were talking about the Queen of England and her soulmate, keeping it a secret, and the challenges they had to face. It felt like you were talking about us. And it was so good, all the kids were eating it up. Even Puckerman. I was proud of you. I don’t know if you can understand how that felt, to be proud of my submissive, after we’d just met, when everything was so upside-down.” He looked down at their joined hands, then up at Blaine again. “You were brilliant. I couldn’t even believe that you were mine.”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember,” Blaine said. “But there was only one person in that room I was trying to impress. You. And for that I was relying more on my pants than my words.”

“Your pants?”

“Oh, come on Kurt! You can’t tell me you don’t remember the pants. I’m one hundred percent certain that you do.”

“I . . . remember that you were perfect,” Kurt admitted. “And I was . . . terrified. And excited. And falling in love. God, so long ago.”

“Those pants made my ass look like a tasty pastry confection.”

Kurt hit the play button on the remote. “All your pants do that. It’s not the pants sweetie. It’s your ass.”

“Still. You could have remembered.”

Kurt pulled Blaine into his arms. “I think we both remember what mattered, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” Blaine sniffed. “Are you sure –?”

“Let it go Blaine. Let it go.”


	13. Maximum/Loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maximum loneliness. There's a prompt that does not lend itself to kinky sex! :)

Blaine picked up the phone before the first ring ended. “Kurt!” he cried with his usual bright enthusiasm. But Kurt knew him well enough to hear the strain underneath that one word.

“Hey,” Kurt said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call earlier. It was nonstop today.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I knew you’d call.”

Blaine sounded too much like he was trying to convince himself. It made Kurt’s heart hurt. “This sucks,” he said quietly.

“No, it’s fine. We’re both adults. We can handle –”

“Blaine,” Kurt said wearily.

On the other end of the line, Blaine sighed. “Yeah, it sucks,” he admitted. “I miss you so much.”

“It can’t be half as much as I miss you,” Kurt said. “But . . . four more days. I’m home on Friday.”

“Wait, what happened to a week and a half?”

“I told Paolo I’d reached my limit. That last extension was too much. I told him you and I have a maximum time apart clause in our contract and there was no way I could violate it.”

“You did not!” Blaine laughed a little and even over the phone it sounded genuine.

“I did. I appealed to him as a fellow dominant.”

“And that worked?”

“Well, I also told him being sad and lonely was leading me to eat my feelings and if he didn’t send me home I might gain ten pounds and none of the clothes would fit.”

“Kurt!” Blaine said, his voice full of emotion. “You threatened to gain weight? I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“Well, I said I _might_.”

“You’re amazing,” Blaine said. “Friday. I can’t believe it.”

The lightness in Blaine’s voice meant more to Kurt even than the prospect of seeing his soulmate in only four days. “I know this has been hard for you.”

“Kurt –”

“No, listen Blaine. You’ve been amazing about all of this, but I know it wasn’t easy for you to have me gone for so long. Not after all the years you had to wait for me.”

“I’m an adult, Kurt. I can handle it.”

“Of course you can,” Kurt said. “But knowing you can handle it doesn’t make it any easier. What I’m trying to say is, I get how big a sacrifice this was for you and I love you even more for making it.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, then Blaine said, “Well, there is a way you can make it up to me.”

“Name it, baby.”

“Phone sex.”

“Oh my god Blaine!” Kurt exclaimed. “I am having a sincere, loving moment here!”

“And I appreciate that. But I’ve also had my dick locked in a cage for three and a half weeks with no one here to fuck me. Honestly, I think phone sex is the very least that I deserve.”

He wasn’t wrong, Kurt had to admit. “Fine, give me a minute to get into character.”

“Character?”

“Well if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right!”

From across the world, Blaine laughed. “I love you too, Kurt. More than you will ever know.”


	14. Nest/Ornaments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know I'm a day behind! But I'm just going to stay here until my brain catches up to the prompts! Those of you who know me will, I'm sure, just be happy I'm still writing! <3

“Kurt, hurry up! It’s cold in here without you!”

“Don’t be silly,” Kurt said. He finished pouring out the eggnog and put the carton back in the refrigerator before joining Blaine in the little nest of blankets and pillows he’d made on the sofa. The lights twinkled on the Christmas tree, the Yule log burned on the TV screen, and, contrary to Blaine’s complaint, the sofa was already warmed by Blaine’s body heat when Kurt slid under the blankets and handed Blaine his nog.

“I missed you,” Blaine said as he sipped.

“Silly,” Kurt said again.

“Well excuse me for being excited for our first Christmas together.” Blaine snuggled into Kurt’s embrace and pulled a blanket up to his chin. “It’s not like I waited for this for years. Decades even.”

“Okay, I give you permission to be excited.” Kurt squeezed Blaine tight.

“I don’t need your permission for that.”

“But I bet it feels nice to have it,” Kurt teased. “Are you sub enough to admit that?”

“Okay fine! Yes, I like having your permission.”

“And that’s what makes you perfect.”

They sat quietly for a time, sipping eggnog, watching the tree, and snuggling tight in their holiday den.

“We need more ornaments on the tree,” Kurt said eventually.

There were exactly eight ornaments on their Christmas tree. Three Blaine’s mom had given them from the Anderson family stash, four had come from the collection that Kurt had curated for the Hummels over the years since his mom had died, and one – a Victorian-style glass ball etched with _Our First Christmas Together_ – they’d picked out together earlier that day. It wasn’t a big tree, and there were lights, and a garland of tiny red and green balls, but it wouldn’t be a stretch to say it was practically bare.

“No, this is perfect,” Blaine said. “I know you’ve been fantasizing about your perfect Christmas tree almost as long as I’ve been waiting for you, but I like this for now. We’ve got our favorite things from when we were kids. Something we bought together. And lots of room to remind us of how many memories we still get to make.”

“So we’ll add a few new things every year, and when we’re old and gray we’ll need a ten-foot tree to hold them all, and we’ll still nest on the couch and drink eggnog and watch the Yule log?” Kurt teased.

“You’ll never be old and gray.”

“True,” Kurt said.

“And I hope by the time _I’m_ old and gray we’ll be someplace with a real fireplace so we can burn a real Yule log. But yes, to all the rest. You, me, ten-foot tree. And a lifetime of memories.”

And the funny thing was, Kurt could see it so clearly. All the years from now until then, full of unexpected joys and challenges, each one documented in Christmas baubles that they would carefully unwrap and hang, revisiting their memories. He’d been with Blaine for eight months and he was still amazed at how eternal their connection felt. Especially at times like these.

“I think you’re right,” he told Blaine. “I think it’s going to be exactly like you imagine it. Except maybe the log. I’m pretty sure by that time we won’t be allowed to burn real wood anymore. Carbon footprint and all.”

Blaine laughed. “As long as I have my twinkle lights, my soulmate, and a few hundred ornaments, I’ll be happy.”


	15. Overwhelmed/Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . when I saw the prompts I thought, gee, that's perfect for Blaine feeling overwhelmed about being the tree at a Christmas party . . . except I already wrote that! So I did a little twist and revisited that story (which you can read in To Shape and Love) from Kurt's POV. Also, why are endings so hard? Can someone explain that to me?

The party was definitely a success.

Carols played, wine flowed, the guests moved in and out of Blaine’s corner, offering a touch here, a stroke there. Bruce curled up on the floor pressing his bulk against Blaine’s bare leg. And Kurt stood close, watching, holding his breath.

“Congratulations,” a voice said in his ear. Kurt turned to find Jeff staring at Blaine’s Christmas tree impression with admiring eyes.

Jeff and Kurt were the same age. They’d met in an online group for younger dominants with older submissives. Although Jeff’s age difference with his sub Steve wasn’t quite as large as Kurt and Blaine’s, he understood the pressures that Kurt faced, and they'd bonded easily.

“What for?” Kurt asked quietly.

“Are you kidding? Look at him.” Jeff gestured at Blaine, blindfolded, bound in the corner, wrapped in twinkle lights with various ornaments clamped to his most sensitive parts.

Kurt shook his head. “That’s all him.”

“Bullshit,” Jeff said. As they watched, Lars sauntered over, petted Bruce on the head, and gave Blaine’s upright cock a gentle pump. A shudder rippled up Blaine’s body but he didn’t make a sound, didn’t startle, he was so far gone into his headspace that he didn’t question the touch at all, only reacted with pure submissive arousal.

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked Jeff.

“I may not be as experienced as you, but I know that no submissive goes that deep unless he knows that his dom is in complete control. It’s obvious Blaine trusts you with his life. I have to tell you, the way that he puts himself in your hands? It’s an inspiration.”

“It’s overwhelming,” Kurt admitted, watching Blaine tremble with the strain of holding his position. “Even after all these years.”

“Why?” Jeff asked.

“It still blows me away that he _can_ put so much trust in me,” Kurt said. “Because he’s been this way since the beginning. I was just some kid who’d never had a dom class, never even kissed anyone, not really. We had a few things to work out, at first, but once Blaine was in he was _all_ in. He gave me every little bit of himself almost from day one. I still have no idea what I did to deserve that.”

Jeff laughed. “Well I’m sure he’d be able to tell you, if you asked.”

Nathan brushed past Blaine, setting the jingle bells clamped to his balls swinging. A tiny moan escaped Blaine’s lips, soft and loose and not at all distressed. Still, Kurt tensed, ready to intervene.

“See. That’s why he trusts you. He knows you’re always watching to make sure he’s okay. That kind of security is the greatest gift you can give a sub. He can’t find that peace unless you’re there to keep him safe. He’s lucky.”

“Please,” Kurt scoffed. “I’m the lucky one. Look at him.”

They both looked. Blaine held his position, still as the tree he was impersonating. His eye were hidden but his lips parted gently with his breathing, plump and pink, his ass curved in perfect bubble proportion, and his hungry cock flexed against its ring, dribbling evidence of its excitement.

“Now that you mention it,” Jeff said, “I mean, Steven is my favorite submissive ever, obviously, but . . . Blaine’s a very, very close second.”

Kurt couldn’t help laughing at that. But louder than his laugh was a whine from down on the floor.

“Unless you’re talking dogs, of course,” Jeff continued smoothly. “Bruce will always be my favorite pup.”

Kurt smiled at the sub curled at Blaine’s feet, who’d held that spot in submissive solidarity since the party had begun. “Man’s best friend. Without a doubt.”

Bruce grumbled happily and rested his chin back down on Blaine’s foot.

“Merry Christmas to all!” Jeff said, toasting Kurt with his Champagne.

Kurt toasted back. “And to all a good night.”


	16. Part/Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's word is "part" and the prompt is kissing under the mistletoe. Works for me! ;)

Kurt noticed the mistletoe the minute they walked into the party.

He wondered who’d snuck it in. He couldn’t see Mr. Schue approving of something like that even at an unofficial school event. It was Rachel’s house, but there was no way she’d give people an excuse to do anything but marvel at her carol singing. His money was on Puckerman. Noah lived to stir up trouble.

He didn’t point it out to Blaine.

Coming to this party was part of the compromise they’d made when Kurt agreed to go back to Glee Club. He refused to pretend Blaine didn’t exist. Mr. Schue could ban Blaine from Glee practices, but off-campus events were fair game and Kurt had made Blaine promise to come with him to every single one.

Blaine had made that promise easily enough but now that they were face to face with the whole club – including Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury – he was clinging to Kurt’s hand like a child being dragged to the dentist.

“Kurt! Blaine!” Rachel cried loud enough to fill Carnegie Hall. She rushed them, a blur in red and green, and enveloped first one then the other in a much-too-enthusiastic hug. “Happy Hanukkah! You both have to sing with me later. I have a three-part arrangement of Deck the Halls that you’ll be perfect for.”

Blaine’s hand crushed down on Kurt’s, but Rachel was in Rachel mode. She didn’t bother to wait for an answer but flew off to accost another victim. Fortunately at that moment Sam bounded down the stairs into the basement and made a beeline for Blaine. Apparently some new game had been released that Sam was sure Blaine would want to be among the first to play. Eventually Blaine actually released Kurt’s had and allowed himself to be drawn away and regaled with nerdy details.

Kurt eyed the mistletoe.

He waited until he felt the moment was right. He’d been nervous about Mr. Schue being here with Blaine, but their teacher seemed to have accepted that this was the price for having Kurt back in the club.

Kurt’s moment came an hour or so into the party, when everyone was relaxed and having a good time. Rachel was belting out Oh Holy Night, Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury were dancing together, and Puckerman appeared to be trying to get someone to grind with him. Blaine was still talking to Sam, standing not far from where the mistletoe hung, so Kurt sidled nonchalantly across the room until he stood directly under the greenery.

“Blaine,” he called, just loud enough for Blaine and maybe a few others to hear over Rachel’s singing. When Blaine looked up Kurt gave him a grin and looked pointedly up at the mistletoe.

Blaine ducked his head and gave it a little shake. But Kurt was not to be deterred. He raised one eyebrow in silent but unmistakable command.

Blaine blushed red all the way to the tops of his ears. But he was nothing if not obedient. With a quick word to Sam he made his way the few steps to where Kurt stood. He was breathing hard and trembling.

“Everyone can see us,” he said.

“I don’t care. It’s Christmas. I want to kiss my boyfriend under the mistletoe.”

“But they’ll see.”

Kurt smiled. “That’s part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“Part of why I want to do it. Part of what’s got you so turned on.” He touched Blaine’s waist, slid his fingertips up the back of Blaine’s shirt, up his bare neck to thread into the curls at the back of Blaine’s head. “I’m taking what I want. I don't care who sees.” Kurt tightened his fingers in Blaine’s hair, pulling his head back, lifting his face to be kissed.

“Oh fuck Kurt,” Blaine said as Kurt’s lips took his, hard, in a kiss that just toed over the line of Glee-club-party appropriate.

Somebody whistled and Blaine’s body shuddered against Kurt’s, but he kept on kissing back.

When Kurt let him go Blaine looked up at him with eyes gone black. “God, please tell me we can leave now,” he whispered. “Please tell me you’re going to take me home and fuck me.”

“If we leave right after that kiss, everyone will know why,” Kurt pointed out.

Blaine blushed an even deeper red as he slid his hand into Kurt’s. “That’s part of it.”


	17. Quarrel/Christmas Cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still alive! (Why do all my posts seem to have to begin with that?) The short version is that we're all fine and handling quarantine with varying degrees of acceptance. For a longer version I'll refer you to my tumblr. I'm lilinas there too.
> 
> I'm so glad to be back putting words together though, and I'll be giving attention to this and to my Kurbastian WIP in turn. Moving forward one day at a time. I hope everyone is safe and healthy!

“What are you doing?”

Kurt’s question was quiet, his voice perfectly calm, but Blaine wasn’t fooled for a moment. It was the calm of a cheetah trying not to spook the gazelle upon which he was about to pounce.

The gazelle sighed. He’d been so careful not to rouse Kurt when he’d crept out of bed.

“I’m finishing the Christmas cards,” he said, keeping his voice just as steady as Kurt’s.

“Blaine –”

The word rose in pitch and volume more than a single syllable should have been able to. Blaine turned in his chair.

“Kurt, you have to let me –”

“We discussed this!”

“I know, but you –”

“Are you even _attempting_ the calligraphy?”

Blaine took a deep, calming breath. “No, Kurt. You know I don’t know how to do your calligraphy.”

“And that’s why –”

Blaine popped up from his chair with a gazelle’s speed and caught Kurt’s hands in his own. “Kurt!” he said in a tone he rarely used. And it worked. Kurt’s eyes went wide but his mouth closed, although the tight set of his lips was definitely a sign that he’d only been shut up temporarily.

“Sweetheart,” Blaine went on, wheedling, “I don’t want to argue about this again. You have so much to do right now. The show’s in six weeks. You think I haven’t noticed how little sleep you’re getting, but I have. And,” he rushed to add when Kurt opened his mouth to argue, “while we both know that you are a super hero who could easily managed to design gorgeous clothes and . . . calligraphize two hundred addresses, your debut line is so important. Don’t split your focus. Let me do this for you.”

“Calligraphize is not a word,” Kurt groused. “I always do our cards. I want them to be perfect.”

He was pouting, but also wavering. Blaine could hear it in his voice, and feel it in the way Kurt’s hands gripped his, like a lifeline.

“They will be perfect,” Blaine said. “Not _you_ perfect, but they’ll be _me_ perfect. And I can guarantee you that when all of our friends are watching you take that victory lap on the runway in January, not a single person is going to be thinking about Christmas cards. Calligriphized or not.”

“It’s not –”

“Not a word. I know. I’m teasing you, silly,” Blaine said, smiling. “No one will be thinking about them but me. I’ll be thinking about how I helped. By taking this on and letting you be free to create.”

“Blaine . . .”

It was quiet this time. No two-octave scoop. But there was still conflict on Kurt’s face and Blaine forced himself to not dismiss it. He understood how something so insignificant to others could be so vital to Kurt. And he knew how much it was part of Kurt’s nature to believe he could literally do everything. But Blaine’s nature was just as strong as Kurt’s and this time he wasn’t about to back down.

“Let me help you with this,” Blaine said, letting the tiniest note of pleading drift into his voice. “Let me be a part of it.”

“You’re a part of everything I do. You know that.”

“But this is a way for me to take care of you. Please, Kurt.”

It was shameless manipulation but Blaine didn’t care. Not when he could see the shift happening, as a completely different part of Kurt responded to his request. And he knew he’d won. Kurt could fight it but in the end his dominant nature would require him to give his lover what he needed. He shouldn’t have smiled, as he watched Kurt cave, but he couldn’t quite stop himself.

“Damn you with that begging,” Kurt said with a theatrical scowl.

“So you’re okay with this?”

Kurt looked longingly at the table piled with cards. “Just let me do Paolo’s, okay? You know he’ll judge.”

“Paolo’s,” Blaine conceded benevolently.

“Oh god, and Rachel’s. I can’t let her think –”

“Kurt!”

“Okay, okay. Just Paolo’s.”

Blaine pulled Kurt close and gave him a quick kiss. “Now you go make something beautiful, and I’ll address these cards, using the cursive that won three consecutive penmanship awards in Mrs. Whelan’s third grade class.”

“Well if it was good enough for Mrs. Whelan . . .” Kurt, in his turn, pulled Blaine close for a kiss but Blaine stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Go work,” Blaine insisted, giving Kurt’s chest a little push.

“You just want to get rid of me before I change my mind,” Kurt retorted.

“You said you’d let me do it and I believe you,” Blaine said. “I know how much you’ve got on your plate right now. You don’t have time to dally with your lover.”

Kurt pouted but complied, backing into their office and shutting the door.

Blaine waited for the latch to click then hurried back to work before Kurt could change his mind.


End file.
